


Measuring Cups

by slash4femme



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: Finland comes back to Sweden to find things are not as he had left them





	

I.  
  
They have never been simple. Sometimes on the better days when Berwald is a long stretch of warmth pressed against his back, the sunlight falling across the floor and all Tino can hear is both of their breathing, slow and deep, he can pretend it’s always like this. He can shut his eyes and pretend they are always good together, always have been good together, slow, familiar and peaceful.  
  
It isn’t the truth though, because there have always been the times when they slept stiff and awkward next to each other fully clothed but not daring to touch. There was the time he stood, cold tears freezing to his face, knee deep in snow, too angry and too frightened to go back into the house. When he’d wished to God he was anywhere else, with anyone else, even Russia, even Denmark. There was the first time Berwald had looked at him with eyes so sad and dark and Tino had realized that no matter how strong, or how powerful Berwald was, no matter how many people he terrified, Tino could still break his heart. He had broken his heart without even meaning to on more then one occasion. It is a power Tino never asked for, never wanted, but it’s his nonetheless.  
  
Sometimes they live together in a state of hostility; sometimes their household is tranquil, almost loving.  
  
Sometimes Tino leaves and doesn’t come back for decades. He doesn’t want to know what Berwald does during those times or whom he is with. It’s always Tino who leaves so he figures he has no right to be possessive.  
  
He feel strange now, and a little bit of a bastard standing here in this Swedish airport, holding a suitcase with one hand, wearing a scarf Berwald had given him for Christmas thirty years ago, last time they’d done this. The last time he’d come home.  
  
He sees the other nation almost right away, tall and expressionless, with wire-rimmed glasses and dark wool overcoat. He’d known Berwald would be there to pick him up even though he secretly wishes the other man would have simply left him to get a taxi to Berwald house. He squares his shoulders and tries to think of what he’s going to say to the other nation. What do you say to someone who you’ve been in a relationship with off and on for over seven hundred years?  
  
Then he sees that Berwald isn’t alone and all the thoughts fly right out of his head.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Tino.” Berwald says softly, and Tino finally drags his eyes way from the small boy clutching Berwald’s hand, eyes snapping up to meet Berwald’s.  
  
“Who is this?” it comes out sharper then he would have liked and the small boy moves a little behind Berwald’s broad frame.  
  
“This is Sealand.” Berwald says simply and Tino remembers now England’s little, almost-nation. He’s only seen Sealand maybe once, dressed in a child’s sailor uniform. Now the boy is wearing pants, a turtleneck shirt and heavy wool coat.  
  
“How did you get him?” Tino hisses at the other man more quietly this time, hand firmly grasping his sleeve so that Berwald can’t pull away.  
  
“Bought him.” Berwald reaches past Tino to tug the suitcase out of his hand and then heads towards the exit, Tino’s suitcase in one hand and the little boy nation’s hand in the other. Tino blinks stupidly after them for a moment and then has to trot to catch up.  
  
  
II.  
  
“A child? Are you out of your mind?” Tino is leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of tea cradled between his hands, watching Berwald prepare dinner. The child in question is in the living room coloring; Tino doesn’t even want to think about it. “What kind of home can we possibly give a child?” He asks the taller nation almost plaintively. Hana-Tamago sniffs at his leg then runs to join Sealand in the living room.  
  
Berwald gently lays aside the knife he’s been using to chop the onions and despite the fact that every line of him reads tension he does not sink it into the counter like Tino knows he is capable of. “I have been doing fine for the last four months.”  
  
It hits Tino like a punch in the gut. “Four months?” he says softly “you’ve had him for four months, and you didn’t tell me?”  
  
The taller nation turns to him, crossing his arms over his chest and merely looks, “What would I have said?” he asks softly and Tino just stares.  
  
_You could have said I need you, come home_. Tino thinks and the traitorous little voice in the back of his head replies, _but would you have come if he had?_ Ice fills his chest and twists at his heart.  
  
“I can give him a good home.” Berwald tells him, going back to chopping the vegetables for dinner. Tino doesn’t want it to hurt that Berwald had said ‘I’ not ‘us’, but it does.  
  
Tino watches Sealand over dinner. The little boy’s human name is Peter and that seems to be what Berwald calls him around the house as well as in public. He has pale skin and soft blond hair that makes him almost look like he could be Berwald’s son. His face is rounder though, his bone structure smaller then the big nation’s, _more like yours_ that little voice tells him and Tino flinches away. He has England’s eyebrows though, no doubt about that, poor kid. Peter watches Tino with wide ice blue eyes as he shoves potatoes into his mouth and Tino tries to remember ever being that small, that vulnerable.  
  
“Are you Papa’s friend?” Peter asks finally, voice high and innocent as a child’s, eyes that of a nation. “Papa said you were.”  
  
Tino looks at Berwald and Berwald looks at his plate, his hand a little too tight around his fork, and Tino wants to reach out and touch him.  
  
“Yes,” he says wishing he could put more conviction behind the words, “Your Papa and I are friends.” 

Perhaps Berwald lets out a sigh of relief at that, or maybe Tino does.  
  
Tino does the dishes and Berwald dries them and puts them away. After dinner they all pile awkwardly on to the couch and watch a movie. Peter curls into Berwald’s side, with Hana-Tamago curled up across his feet and Tino sits on his other side so close that their shoulders touch. Tino doesn’t remember the movie, couldn’t even say what it was about afterwards. He does notice the heat of Berwald’s arm pressed against his own, or the way their knees almost brush, or the steady quiet sound of Berwald’s breathing. He remembers when Peter falls asleep and Berwald picks him up and carries him to his bed, and remembers stopping the movie, turning off the lights, lingering a little in the darkened hall before following them up stares.  
  
He stands awkwardly in the doorway of Berwald’s bedroom and wonders if it might be better if he sleeps in the guest room that night. Berwald’s arms wrap around him from behind and Tino close his eyes and leans into the bigger man and Berwald pushes his face into Tino’s neck his glasses cutting a little into Tino’s jaw, not that he minds. Berwald breathes against his neck. Tino covers the bigger nation’s hands with his own, turns his face just enough for his nose to bump against Berwald’s forehead.  
  
“Friends?” He says after a long moment of them standing like that silence.  
  
Berwald takes a long slow breath. “I hope so” his voice is quiet and Tino turns in the circle of other nation’s arms, feeling the pain in his chest grow into something large and heavy.  
  
“Yes” he says softly, standing on his toes, and putting his arms around Berwald’s neck, “at least that.”  
  
They kiss and Berwald’s lips are soft and warm and sure and his hands are so large against Tino’s back, pulling him close. Tino’s hands clench in the fabric of Berwald’s sweater, holding on tight to the other nation. Berwald keeps it light and gentle but Tino parts his lips against Berwald’s, pushes forward with the tip of his tongue. Berwald’s hand moves up to cup the back of Tino’s head and they both breathe heavily through their noses, lips still touching, wet and slick. Berwald’s tongue touches Tino’s almost tentatively next time they kiss, pushing their whole bodies together, exploring, lips, teeth and pallet. They pull back for a moment, Berwald’s eyes are so intense behind his glasses, and his hands rise to cup Tino’s face.  
  
“Missed you.”  
  
Tino makes a small noise and pushes himself against the bigger nation, tangles their legs together, puts his arms around Berwald’s waist. “Yeah.”  
  
They breathe against each other’s mouth for a moment, so close yet not close enough. Finally Berwald runs an unsteady hand through his own hair, “come to bed?”  
  
Tino nods and pushes against Berwald until they are moving backwards and Berwald sits down when his knees come into contact with the edge of the bed. He lies back as Tino climbs on top of him. Tino kisses the other nation, wet and wanting, slides the tips of his fingers under the edge of collar of Berwald’s sweater. After a moment he sits up and takes one of Berwald’s huge hands in his much smaller ones and Tino guides the other nation’s hand down to cup his ass. He sighs and pushes back into Berwald’s grip, which starts out loose and soon becomes stronger, Berwald brings his other hand up as well to grip and knead at Tino’s firm flesh and Tino groans and thrust back. His own hands slide down Berwald’s body to push up underneath the larger nation’s sweater, to feel hot skin against his fingertips. His palms smooth and glide against the plains and lines of Berwald’s hard muscles stomach, sides, then slide down to toy with the waist band of his jeans, the beginnings of hip bones just above the waist line. Berwald pushes himself up a little, hands still cupping Tino’s small round backside. His lips are warm and moist against the curve of Tino’s neck.  
  
“Need you.” Berwald murmurs against his skin.  
  
Tino closes his eyes and takes several long shuddering breaths, “Then take me.”  
  
Berwald looks up at him and for a moment their eyes meet and then the bigger nation reaches up and takes off his own glasses putting them on the bedside table. Tino’s stomach knots with anticipation and need.

Then they move and Tino finds himself on his back as Berwald’s weight pushes him down into the soft bed. Tino reaches up and pulls the other nations close, kisses behind his ear and along his jaw, thinks _yes, yes_.  
  
Berwald’s hands are gentle and sure as he unbuckles Tino’s belt, undoes his jeans and pulls them down and off. Tino’s hands’ fumble with Berwald’s belt and other nation pushes him gently away, peals off his sweater and then gets his own jeans off. Tino pulls his own long sleeve t-shirt over his head. They move against each other again, this time skin against skin and Tino shakes a little, sighs and presses himself up into Berwald. Berwald’s big hands pull down Tino’s boxers, skim along his hips, touch the soft skin of his inner-thighs, while Berwald’s mouth moves along his neck, bites gently at one shoulder. Tino moves his own hands along the impossibly wide plains of Berwald’s back, feeling muscles move under his hands. When he sleeps with other people Tino is always the aggressor in bed, hell he’s usually on top in bed. The way Berwald feels though, sliding down his body, the press of the other man’s mouth against his chest, and stomach, Berwald’s big hands pushing his thighs apart, makes him hard, hot and needy. He moves restlessly against the sheets, panting, as Berwald uses mouth, lips and tongue against Tino’s cock, hands gently spreading, and fingers sliding between his ass cheeks to pet him there. Tino writhes, gasps and comes and Berwald watches him little near-sightedly before pulling away and reaching for the lube on the bedside table.  
  
Berwald would willingly prepare him but Tino knows the bigger nation likes to watch and so it’s his own fingers that he presses into his body, back arching, toes curling, head thrown to the side as he moves in and out, slick skin against, skin. He pants and watches Berwald watch him all intense dark eyes and body drawn tight in need and finally, Tino reaches out for the larger man, wraps arms and legs around him, drawing him down and in. They hang like that, suspended in the moment breathing against each other’s skin. Then Berwald moves.  
  
  
III.  
  
Tino wakes up before anyone else the next morning. He feels a little sore and a little stiff but overall good and for a few minutes he just lays there curled up against Berwald’s warm bulk. Finally though he stretches and moves, sliding carefully out of bed and making his way to the bathroom. He takes a quick but hot shower and slips on a pair of sweatpants and one of Berwald’s Arch Enemy t-shirts, which falls to Tino’s knees. Berwald’s still sleeping peacefully and Tino hasn’t heard any noise from Peter’s room. It’s Saturday so Tino doesn’t feel the need to wake anyone just yet. Instead he takes his laptop into the study and curls up in Berwald’s large leather office chair.  
  
He finds a series of emails from his boss, all wanting to know when Tino will be coming back to his own country. Someone must have explained about Berwald and Tino’s history together as a couple, Tino thinks, scanning them. He leaves them unanswered because he’s not sure what to say. Over the centuries he and Berwald had done everything from a quick fuck in the alley outside of some bar to actually living together in the same house as, for all intense and purposes, a married couple.  
  
Tino sighs and draws his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the top of them. He hadn’t come here with the intention of moving in and starting something long-term. He hadn’t come here with any intentions at all really. When he’d gotten here though, he’d found Peter and Hana-Tamago, not to mention Berwald with his soft kisses and understanding eyes and need for a normal stable life. Tino buries is face in his hands and groans. He doesn’t know why Berwald wants him, why Berwald has wanted him for so many centuries. 

Tino sighs again, gets up and wanders into the kitchen to start the coffee.  
  
“I don’t know what to do.” He tells Eduard over skype while he sips his coffee.  
  
“About having someone who’s been in love with you and only you since the 13th century? Oh yes, what a tragedy, I feel your pain.”  
  
Tino scowls at the other nation, “I’m a nation, not a human Eduard, I can’t just settle down with a kid and a dog and a husband, and God only knows, a white picket fence probably. My boss is unhappy with me as it is.”

  
Eduard sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose right above his glasses. “You’re making this more complicated then it needs to be. Do you love him?”  
  
Tino opens and then closes his mouth.  
  
“If you want to be with him, be with him. If not then tell him and leave.”  
  
Tino looks down at his hands and his cooling cup of coffee. Eduard is right; he knows he is, even if Tino doesn’t want to hear it.  
  
“I want to be an independent nation, with my own history, my own politics and my own language.” He says finally, “and for a long time that meant not being with him.”  
  
On the other side of the computer’s video feed The Republic of Estonia expression becomes slightly gentler and he sighs. “I get it, trust me I do, but this is the twenty first century and no one is going to deny that you are your own nation. So do what will make you happy. Oh and Tino.” His best friend’s tone becomes slightly more severe again, “if you do decide not to stay, make sure it doesn’t end up like last time, we all still have to have EU meeting with you guys remember.”  
  
Tino cringes a little at that. The last time he’d broken up with Berwald, he had to admit, he hadn’t handled it well, and Berwald had been hell to be around for a solid year afterward. In Tino’s experience there was nothing worse then a heartbroken ex-Viking, and no one wanted to deal with that.  
  
“Tino?”  
  
Tino looks up startled to see Peter standing in the doorway still dressed in pajamas “I have to go.” He tells Eduard hastily before looking back up at the small nation “Yes, Peter?”  
  
“Can I have breakfast?”  
  
Tino opens his mouth and then realizes he has no idea what Berwald’s policy on this is, or how this household usually functions, _you’re not part of this life_. “Yes of course.”  
  
Tino gets up and goes into the kitchen followed by Peter and starts poking around, finally locates some cereal, milk and yogurt and sets them on the table for Peter.  
  
“Mornin’.” Long arms wrap around Tino from behind and Berwald kisses him on the top of the head before Tino can think or react. Tino feels his face go bright red, as Peter watches them curiously and Berwald lets go of him and moves across the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. Tino notes he’s dressed in pajama pants and long sleeved t-shirt, and Berwald sits down across the kitchen table from Peter sipping his coffee. Tino suddenly feels like an outsider, like he doesn’t belong in this picture. He fretfully tugs at the bottom of Berwald’s too large t-shirt he’s still wearing.  
  
“I’m going to go get dressed.”  
  
Berwald looks up and looks as if he might be about to say something, but Tino’s already heading out of the kitchen.  
  
  
IV.  
  
“Look I don’t know.” Tino paces up and down outside, one hand stuck in the pocket of his leather jacket, the other holding his cellphone. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I don’t know if this will become a regular thing, I don’t know.” On the other end of the phone President Halonen is not pleased and Tino wants to tell her that his private life is none of her, or anyone else’s, business. Except for the fact that it is her business if he’s going to be spending most of his time in another nation’s house. “Yes I will let you know when I know.” Tino rubs his forehead. He goes back into the house, hanging up his jacket and kicking off his boots. Then puts the kettles on for tea, before padding down the hall to the study.  
  
Berwald is working on his computer, in jeans and dark blue sweater. The sweater hugs all the hard lines of Berwald’s body and Tino becomes intensely aware that the other nation is still built like he had been back in their Viking days, like a silent, deadly wall of muscle. Tino is whiplash thin during wartime, all bones and muscles and sinew. During times of peace his figure tends to get rounder, fuller though, just . . . soft. He tugs his Apocalyptica t-shirt further down as if this will somehow make the ever-so-slight swell of his belly and hips smaller.  
  
“Would you like some tea?”  
  
Berwald looks up from the computer at him and Tino suddenly feels a little shy.  
  
“Sure.” Berwald stands and comes around the desk towards Tino until he’s well into his personal space. Although Tino might be feeling slightly self-conscious right now he would be damned if he was going to back up and Berwald reaches around him and closes the study door. Then Berwald is kissing him, and Tino gasps a little into the bigger nation’s mouth. Berwald’s lips and tongue are demanding but gentle against his and Berwald’s hands stroke down Tino’s body, touching shoulders, sides and hips before wrapping around his waist. Berwald pulls away from Tino’s mouth to kiss the side of his jaw, while his hands slip down from Tino’s waist to cup his ass and Tino gaps again pushes himself closer to the tall nation.  
  
“Berwald-”  
  
The taller nation actually groans, burying his face in the curve of Tino’s neck, sucking and kissing a mark against fragile skin.  
  
“Sweden,” Tino gasps, “the kettle’s on the stove.”  
  
Berwald pulls away reluctantly. Tino can’t help but push himself up onto his toes to pull Berwald down for another quick kiss, before rushing out the door to retrieve the kettle.  
  
  
V.  
  
There is something wrong with the kitchen sink, which is why Tino is underneath the sink with a wrench while Peter does his homework in the living room. Tino grunts a little and pushes hard on the wrench, hard enough to loosen the bracelet holding the elbow of the pipe together but not hard enough to destroy the pipe completely. He manages to get the connector off and starts fitting the new one on. Screwing the connecting bracelet back on Tino scoots out from under the sink feeling satisfied. He looks up to see Berwald standing by the kitchen table watching him. Berwald must have just gotten back from his government office because he’s dressed in grey slacks and an expensive looking turtle neck sweater, with his tailored black wool coat draped over one arm. Tino unconsciously smoothes one hand over his now dust and rust smudged Nightwish t-shirt.  
  
“I fixed the sink.”  
  
Berwald’s eyes go to the sink, “thanks.”  
  
“And I picked Peter up from school.”  
  
Berwald nods and walks into the living room and after a moment Tino hears Peter’s voice high and excited talking to Berwald about his latest assignment and Berwald’s deep voice rumbling in reply. Tino collects the tools from off the kitchen floor and puts them in the toolbox as Berwald comes back into the kitchen and begins taking things out of the refrigerator.  
  
“What are you telling Peter?” Tino washes his hands in the newly fixed sink and takes the cabbage away from Berwald and grabs a knife. “About us?”  
  
Berwald looks at him for a long moment and then shrugs, “haven’t told him anything.”  
  
“He’s going to notice eventually that there is an extra member of the family.”  
  
Tino looks up and Berwald is openly staring at him now, “Really?”  
  
Tino ducks his head a little, “I would like to stay.”  
  
He’s not sure what reactions he’s been expecting it’s certainly not for Berwald to start chewing in his lower lip with a small frown on his face. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Berwald finally mumbles at the table and Tino puts down the knife he’s been cutting the cabbage with.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“We both know what I want.” Berwald back is straight now and he crosses his arms over his chest, meets the other nation’s eyes squarely. “What do _you_ want?”  
  
Tino makes a frustrated noise and pushes himself up and grabs Berwald’s chin in one hand. He kisses him with passion and after a moment Berwald’s arms come around Tino’s waist and he kisses him back. “Give me a chance.” Tino tells him between kisses, “Let me try.”  
  
“All right.” Berwald takes Tino’s hands in his much bigger ones and kisses them one at a time, “all right.”  
  
  
V.  
  
Berwald isn’t at the airport when Tino gets off the plane so Tino hails down a taxi instead. He makes a quick stop at the nearest store before heading for Berwald’s house.  
  
“Tino.” Peter greets him when Tino lets himself in and hugs the child nation in greeting.  
  
“How is your Papa?”  
  
“Sick.” Peter scrunches his face into a frown. “He fainted this morning.”  
  
Tino frowns and heads for the bedroom where Berwald is tucked up in bed asleep. He touches the bigger nation’s forehead to make sure doesn’t have a fever before heading back to the kitchen and beginning to take the groceries out of the bag. Berwald isn’t taking the most resent economic crisis well. The bigger nation has been suffering from blinding headaches and intense dizziness, sometimes ending in loss of consciousness. It had scared Tino for the first couple weeks, and still irritates the hell out of Berwald but it wasn’t like it was life threatening.  
  
“Tino, can I watch tv?” Peter yells from the living room.  
  
“Not unless your homework is done.” Tino tells him automatically, “And keep it down, Sweden's asleep.”  
  
“Tino will you teach me how to shoot a gun?” Peter asks from the door way and Tino turns to gape at him.  
  
“No.”  
  
Peter pouts “but Papa said you are a really good shot.”  
  
“You ask your Papa if he can teach you to use a broadsword next time he says something like that.” Tino tells him darkly, slicing a turnip in two.  
  
“Cool, do you think he’ll teach me?”  
  
Tino extremely doubts it, in fact he can practically see Berwald’s appalled expression already, “have you finished you’re homework?” Tino asks instead.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Well then you can watch tv until dinner, but you have to spend time after dinner reading, understand?”  
  
Peter bounces into the living room and Tino finishes cooking dinner. He brings some to Berwald after he’s fed Peter. Berwald is sitting up in bed looking groggy and irritated and Tino kisses him on the forehead.  
  
“Feeling better?”  
  
Berwald grunts and takes the plate, and Tino sits next to him on the bed.  
  
“That’s mine.”

Tino looks at the other nation questioningly to see Berwald eyeing his chest.

“The shirt.”  
  
Tino looks down at the Angoria t-shirt he’s wearing over another long-sleeved one. “Yeah it is. It must have gotten mixed up with my shirts and I brought it back with me in my luggage.”  
  
When he looks up again Berwald is coming as close to smiling as the bigger nation ever does, “it’s okay.” Berwald ducks his head and looks down at his plate; “I like it when you wear my clothes.”  
  
Now it’s Tino’s turn to smile, “is that right?” He reaches forward and takes one of Berwald’s big hands in his. “Well I like it too,” his fingers make small circles against the soft skin of Berwald’s wrist, “makes me feel like I belong here.”  
  
Berwald looks at him thoughtfully for a long time. Just long enough for Tino to start feeling embarrassed and like maybe he should take it back.  
  
“ ’Cause you do.” Berwald tells him simply before leaning forward to take Tino’s face in his hands and kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> -It was so hard for me to pick the Finish and Swedish metal bands that showed up here. There are just so many that I love so much. In fact I almost wrote an extra scene just so Tino could be wearing a Sonata Arctica t-shirt.  
> Nightwish: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UztEfwHt14  
> Apocalyptica: http://www.youtube.com/watchv=qxDcWvZCSRg&feature=artistob&playnext=1&videos=SWJDVlG7mVw  
> Arch Enemy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9AcG0glVu4  
> Angoria: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZ1O_tzXsOk


End file.
